<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Few That Return by roulesamsa</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28356159">The Few That Return</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/roulesamsa/pseuds/roulesamsa'>roulesamsa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:35:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,819</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28356159</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/roulesamsa/pseuds/roulesamsa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years after the conflict ended, Oksana finds herself face-to-face with a figure from her past.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Female Character/Original Female Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Few That Return</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Four years ago today, a bombing at a military facility in Alchevsk left fifteen dead, including Captain Amir Bousaid and his sister Private Yuliya Bousaid, the bodies of which have never been-"</p>
<p>Oksana growls underneath her breath, switching the channel to some pokemon battling station. She takes a bite of her toast with a fatty piece of cold ham and rubs at her eyes, feet resting on her desk. A pile of papers lies by them. It's some bill from some party about some topic, Vira will probably yell at her later because she hasn't read it properly.</p>
<p>Every year, when the nights grow long and the snow dances down from the sky to blanket Kyiv in white, the same fucking people pop up to see Oksana. They come in a sort of pilgrimage, wearing concerned expressions and folded hands, asking about how she's doing. How sad it must be to see her comrade's faces once more, unaging, their lives taken from them all too fast.</p>
<p>And every year she responds publicly with the same hopefully heartfelt-sounding response that Vira drafts up, and privately with smiles and nods of appreciation. Talks about how she will fight on in their memory, in any way politically possible.</p>
<p>But in reality, she feels nothing but cold annoyance at being reminded. The faces that are shown on television every year are strange, unfamiliar, shells of the people she passed by on patrol. Just because she was on the frontlines in Alchevsk doesn't mean she had deep personal relations with every soldier who also served there. The militia she served in and the actual military rarely mingled together outside of battles, and most of them hated each other pretty openly.</p>
<p>So, she has no emotional connection to the photos and names.</p>
<p>Except for Yuliya. Well, her brother to an extent. But, mostly Yuliya.</p>
<p>She can see that picture of her in her mind, the one that the news always uses when discussing her. Her long angular face looking at the cameraman, brown eyes warm and dark skin shining in the sun. Around Yuliya's face, dark hair drifts around her in a halo shape, cut around her chin, and the striped shirt of the casual military uniform is barely visible, cut off towards her chest. Her mouth is wide in a toothy grin, her long pointy canines clearly visible, when she's happy like that.</p>
<p>("That's why they call that bitch the Wolf, you know?")</p>
<p>She always resembled a nickit more than a wolf, Oksana notes, eyes half-lidded and with a distinct, malicious smirk. She always seemed to look down on people like Oksana...</p>
<p>Oksana shudders, then sighs deeply. She looks over towards the corner of the room to see Volo fast asleep, cuddling his furry red head into the dog bed she's left out for him. Having her pokemon in her office as she works is calming, especially for such a stressful, agitating job.</p>
<p>She wishes he was awake, so she could run her hands through the growlithe's soft fur and stop thinking about the twin ghosts, the Coyote and the Raven, who hang over her head with stony faces and destroyed bodies, watching with cold judging eyes…</p>
<hr/>
<p>If she could tell the true story of how the three of them met, without fear of judgement, without fear of speaking ill of the dead, this is how she would tell it:</p>
<p>One night, after drinking heavily while stationed out in Alchevsk, Oksana had stumbled into the forests by the militia encampment in a drunken rage. There had been an argument, words exchanged, nothing of note for her to recall. All she remembers is cheap booze searing through her, mixing with that burning anger, forcing her further into the bitter winter night.</p>
<p>She walked into the wind, not knowing where she would go or frankly where the fuck she was going. All she knew was that she needed to walk.</p>
<p>Oksana walked until she found herself hearing the quick crunch of footsteps in snow, then suddenly, she was slammed to the snow, hands held behind her back. She expected to see the faces of the enemy forces in front of her, but instead, she looked up to see the camouflage uniforms of the military. One was obviously a woman, her hair to her chin, with a tall frame that loomed large over Oksana, the other was a man, who was barely visible because of his position on her back.</p>
<p>"Who are you?" the deep, level voice of the soldier behind her asked. "Identify your rank immediately."</p>
<p>Oksana opened her mouth against the cold snow to speak before the other soldier abruptly cuts her off.</p>
<p>"Ahkhun, I know this bitch. She's one of the rabid dogs from the Lviv Battalion. Don't think she is a threat to us, I can smell the booze wafting off of her from here."</p>
<p>Oksana seethed internally at how callous the bitch sounded, smug and self-centered. If only that little bitch knew how long she served in the military before her, maybe she would show some goddamn respect...</p>
<p>"Is she?" Amir asks, the pressure on Oksana's back lifting somewhat. "Why are you here then?"</p>
<p>"I was drinkin' and took-a-walk to try 'n clear my head, that's all."</p>
<p>"Huh," Amir says, and distantly Oksana can hear the other soldier click her tongue against her teeth. "A rather long walk for you. Private, pat her down."</p>
<p>"It's just us," the private groaned loudly, as Oksana is forced to stand up, both twins towering over her. "You don't need to use formalities, Amir."</p>
<p>Oksana held her hands above her head, and she felt a pair of large hands quickly pat her down, feeling for any guns tucked into her nearly threadbare uniform. The touch of her hands was momentary, only for a second at most, but the skin she touched burnt like fire.</p>
<p>"Nothin' on the bitch," she crowed to Amir, who stood behind Oksana now. "What'll we do with her?"</p>
<p>"Private, treat our guest with some respect," Amir chides, and the private crosses her arms in response. "If she isn't armed, there's no reason for us to treat her like that."</p>
<p>"Tsk, tsk," she says, tapping her foot against the snow. "Whatever."</p>
<p>"Ignore her," Amir says, pressing his hand to Oksana's shoulder. "She's… a little difficult. Come now, we'll let you stay with us for the night."</p>
<p>Then, all at once, she found herself in the blank white walls of the military base. It was late late late at night, so other than Amir and the private, no one was awake. Amir stood beside her, his square face in a polite smile, buzzed head covered by a maroon beret, the private to her right, sulking.</p>
<p>Suddenly, Oksana recognized the two of them. The Bousaid twins… Their faces seemed to be everywhere in Ukraine now, on billboards, on the television, and the constant topic of rumors within the militia camps. Rumors of ulterior motives to their service, that both of them were "deviants", and seething rage that they received "special treatment" by the government compared to other fighters. She'd heard their names more times than she could count while in the militia barracks, yet she had never met them. Ever.</p>
<p>Then, just as quickly as she realized who she was talking to, they had stopped in their tracks. With a long hand, Amir gestures to one of the doors.</p>
<p>"This is Private Bousaid's room," he said, his tone sharp. "You will not leave it for any reason other than to use the restroom, and she will unlock your door to do so. We will escort you to your base in the morning."</p>
<p>"Where am I staying, Captain?" Yuliya asked, her eyes narrowed.</p>
<p>"You will be keeping watch over our guest, Private," Amir said with a thin smile, and Yuliya loudly scoffed, rolling her eyes.</p>
<p>"Even when we're breaking protocol you make me follow it," she sneered. "God, just fuckin' lock her in the jail."</p>
<p>"Private, that is no way to treat a guest of ours."</p>
<p>Yuliya made a quick "tch" noise, and bit at her thumbnail, a flash of teeth showing past her lips. She turned to Oksana, her face still taut with anger.</p>
<p>"Come on," she says, her voice low as she unlatches her door. "Get in here."</p>
<p>Thus, she found herself in Yuliya's room. It wasn't much, just two bunks off to one side, a desk bare of anything, and a single poster of some city tacked onto the wall next to the bunks. Oksana staggered to one of the bunks, and sat down in front of it, her back resting against the mattress.</p>
<p>"Where's your roommate?" Oksana remembered asking, her head starting to feel like it's swimming.</p>
<p>"Gone," Yuliya said, as she took off her coat. "She left for Kyiv a week ago. I get a new one in a few days."</p>
<p>"Huh," Oksana said, looking around the room. Her hands are clasped on her lap, and she fiddles with her thumbs.</p>
<p>"You're lucky ahkhun is so kind," the soldier said grimly, sitting at her desk, facing Oksana. "I know Captain Pyotr would've blown your head clean off on sight. But Amir actually wants to work with your silly little racist role-playing unit, so he broke protocol."</p>
<p>"Don't speak like that to me, whore," Oksana snarled, clutching the mattress firmly. "I'm not here to play pretend."</p>
<p>"Half of you are," Yuliya sneered, and her lips pulled into a smile with no warmth in it. "I bet half of your silly little troupe over there think that they're out here to play superhero, and they don't discriminate on who they think the villains are, just that they have to be foriegn enough."</p>
<p>Oksana couldn't find it in herself to disagree with her.</p>
<p>"Well I'm not like them!" she insisted, crossing her arms. She can feel Yuliya smiling smugly at her. "I was in here too. Once. Like you."</p>
<p>Yuliya's eyebrows raised, and the smug expression morphed into one of curiosity. Part of Oksana feels smug herself, ha! I stumped that little fox, but tried to hide her grin.</p>
<p>"Really? Why did you run off to a militia then?"</p>
<p>"My commanding officers never deployed me," Oksana huffs, looking down at her beat up leather boots. "I wanted to fight on the frontlines."</p>
<p>Yuliya snorts, and Oksana opens her mouth to yell at her until she hears her say.</p>
<p>"Guess we're opposites then. I never wanted to be deployed."</p>
<p>Oksana blinked in surprise. She'd never expected that response from someone so lauded within the military and media.</p>
<p>"I just followed Amir here," she continued, a sad look on her face. "I tried college, but I was bored to shit. The military was the only option I could see for myself, just filling out paperwork and testing weapons and shit. Then the war broke out, and I was forced to start fighting. Forced to start killing."</p>
<p>Yuliya rested her head against the back of her chair, looking up at the ceiling.</p>
<p>"You know, I read novels and shit when I'm not fighting. Hemingway, Vonnegut, that sort of thing. It made me realize shit, like the glasses were ripped from my head. All this shit is pointless. It really is! I'm just a tool for whoever is in charge to get what they want. I'm not hurting people for just causes, you know?"</p>
<p>Oksana remembers her eyebrows furrowing. At that time, she disagreed wholeheartedly. All of them were fighting for their country, fighting to protect their country from complete collapse. Why couldn't Yuliya see that?</p>
<p>"I really wonder what will happen when this is all over," the soldier said, picking at the fabric of her chair. "If my children and their children will be blowing their heads off too. Because I'm sure there's kids over there growing up without parents, you know. And those parents will be turned into like, I don't know, saints to live up to."</p>
<p>Yuliya sighed, turning to look over at Oksana. Her eyes were cold, and her face was devoid of any emotion. They seemed to peer through her, looking at the very essence of her soul, or seeing Oksana's future projected behind her.</p>
<p>"'The one in front of the gun lives forever,'" she says softly, almost as if she was singing.</p>
<p>Oksana felt a chill run up her spine.</p>
<p>"Well, perhaps this stupid war ends with us, inshallah," Yuliya says, walking towards the light switch. "You should go to bed now. Amir's going to expect both of us to be up bright and early, so we can sneak you out."</p>
<p>In the morning, the two Bousaid's snuck Oksana out, as Yuliya said. Oksana got chewed out by her superior and forced to stay back from all battles due to insubordination. In the weeks after, as she cleaned the worn-down militia barracks with a barely-functional broom as Volo ran in circles around her, Oksana saw the face of Yuliya, her half-open eyes, smug grin, and cursed it. Wished for her to face her comeuppance and come crying back to Oksana, prone before her. Begging for forgiveness.</p>
<p>Yuliya and Amir were killed the following week.</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Oksana rubs the bridge of her nose. Part of Oksana still hates her. Sees the brown-skinned woman, her prideful, mocking smile and seethes. Those snide comments about her service, the words thrown at her so effortlessly, how dare she?</p>
<p>But, now that the war is over and Oksana finds herself in a small-yet-cushy office in the Parliament, her memory brings less anger and more of a heavy melancholy over her. Not grief or depression, just a longing for what could've been. The senselessness of the conflict.</p>
<p>In the end, Yuliya was beatified, just like she said the others she had to kill would be. Her face was plastered across Kyiv in paintings and pictures alike. Her parents went on tearful media tours, she was decorated with medals posthumously, and there was even discussion of a statue of the two. And all of it makes Oksana feel ill.</p>
<p>Yuliya may have been condescending and a bitch, but she deserved a life beyond the war. And… Her face, those sad eyes, dead of any happiness, just sadness, endless sadness… They haunt her. Peer into her soul, puncture it like thumbs, and tear it apart like an overripe melon.</p>
<p>There's a sudden weight against her legs, and Oksana looks down to see Volo leaning against her legs, blinking up with sleepy eyes. A smile burns at her lips, and she ruffles the growlithe's fur.</p>
<p>"Good boy," she says, ruffling his head. "Let's get back to work, shall we?"</p>
<p>Oksana turns her attention to her computer. After a few attempts to parse the law open on her desktop, she clicks on her emails. She flips through a few, lobbying stuff, requests for comment on certain things, but a recent one catches her eye.</p>
<p>It really should have been filtered out of her inbox, judging by the jumble of letters and numbers in the email name, and that the subject line is just three exclamation points. Despite this, she clicks on it, and reads the email.</p>
<p>Oksana</p>
<p>I need to see you</p>
<p>Please answer me</p>
<p>Who was this? Oksana couldn't think of anyone who needs to see her right now, and even then, she doesn't think they would message her over email or even as vaguely as this.</p>
<p>She's almost curious enough to answer, but in the end, decides to trash the email.</p>
<p>As soon as the email is gone, Oksana hears a loud ding, as her computer loads another email, this time from a different email with a different hash of letters and numbers in its name.</p>
<p>Why have you not responded</p>
<p>When can I speak with you</p>
<p>This creep is persistent, she thinks to herself as she trashes the email once more. What is there to discuss? It's probably some old man trying to hit on her again.</p>
<p>After that, Oksana gets swept into the flow of work. She finally reads over that bill, which is about restrictions on large pokemon ownership within cities (she thinks). Her phone rings with a call from the head of her party, Mrs. Sadovyi, and she walks with her down to the Rada hall. Oksana votes on the bill, which passes with a majority. She watches two warring politicians start a shouting match for thirty minutes that eventually ends with security removing them from the room in fear of an actual fight, which feels all too familiar for Oksana. Then the meeting is adjourned, Oksana is back to her office to do paperwork for another hour, then she takes the subway back to her apartment.</p>
<p>Before she goes in, she stops at a local coffee shop, a treat for herself. She sits outside, coffee cup in hand as she watches Volo look up and sniff at pokemon walking with their owners. After he barks at a passerby's fennekin, Oksana decides to recall him to his pokeball, and make her way back home.</p>
<p>All in all, it's been a perfectly normal day for her.</p>
<p>The normalcy ends as soon as she enters her apartment, and wraps her hand around the doorknob, which seems to stick, even when she puts the key in. Oksana hisses lowly, but manages to pull the door open.</p>
<p>The first thing Oksana notices is the shoes lining the entrance hall. There's her sneakers, slippers, sandals, but next to those there is a pair of black leather boots she's never seen before. They're rather beaten in, with parts on the toe obviously peeling, and red laces lying undone. Her eyebrows furrow at it, and a pang of something cold runs through her spine.</p>
<p>Then she looks up into the eyes of the figure sitting in front of the doorway.</p>
<p>They sit upright on one of Oksana's kitchen chairs, right hand resting on their crossed leg, just staring at her. The room is dark, and what little light there is in the apartment barely reveals any of their facial features, instead giving them sort of a bluish tint. She can make out long hair, and the whites of their eyes, but nothing more.</p>
<p>"Hello Oksana," they say, their voice light, and somehow familiar to her. "It's quite a nice day out today, isn't it?"</p>
<p>Immediately Oksana reaches for her phone, stepping out into the hallway. Before she can dial the emergency line, she hears the voice call out.</p>
<p>"Wait, wait wait wait!" The voice exclaims, standing up and holding her open hands out. "I'm not here to hurt you, I promise! I just want to talk to you for a while."</p>
<p>Oksana stares at them with wide eyes, her tratorious body frozen in fear. She can't bring herself to move her fingers to type. How the fuck can she fight in a bloody, painful war, yet now freezes up at the mere sight of an intruder drawing close? Politics really has made her soft…</p>
<p>"Why should I believe you?" She finally croaks out, her body trembling now. "You broke into my house!"</p>
<p>"Well, any weapons I had are gone now," the voice says, in a higher tone. "Uhm, well, if I did have any, the hospital would've taken them off of me when I was admitted. Though, I can't remember all of that…"</p>
<p>They laugh, a nervous little giggle before continuing:</p>
<p>"I tried to email you earlier, but I think they all went into your spam. I uh, can't use my… work email anymore, so I had to make a new one, you know? Then I forgot the password to that one like a fuckin' idiot, and so I had to create another and then I got impatient after a while, so I took the Metro and-"</p>
<p>"Enough," Oksana says, hand tightening on her phone. "Listen. I don't know who you are, or what's going on in your life, but you obviously need some form of help that I can't provide."</p>
<p>"But you can!" They insist, before Oksana cuts them off again.</p>
<p>"Here's what we're going to do, friend. I'm gonna turn these lights on, and you're going to leave this apartment, and we will never see each other again. Do you understand?"</p>
<p>Oksana tenses herself, internally preparing for her intruder to start viciously attacking her. But the figure stands still, arms falling weakly to their sides.</p>
<p>"Please, Oksana," the voice begs, and Oksana almost feels bad for them. Almost. "It's… it's a matter of life or death. Just thirty minutes of your time…"</p>
<p>Guilt flashes over Oksana in a quick moving wave, but she pushes it aside. She reaches to her right, and flips the switch to turn the lights on, and looks at the intruder.</p>
<p>The intruder is tall, almost towering a foot over Oksana, with long brown arms and big thin hands. They're wearing rather normal clothes, a black long-sleeve shirt that clings to their arms, and tan dress pants. Their dark hair is long, almost past their chest, bangs swept to the right. Their face is long and angular, with wide brown eyes, and it's almost like…</p>
<p>No.</p>
<p>No, it can't be her. This can't be happening.</p>
<p>But the more and more Oksana looks at her, the more and more she knows it's Yuliya Bousaid. She looks older now of course, the two of them were the same age, but those eyes are still the same dark ones she remembers so well.</p>
<p>Those same eyes that four years earlier, government officials said were likely incinerated immediately after the bomb went off, like the rest of her.</p>
<p>"You can't be real," she says, her voice sounding unnatural and thin. Her body is shaking again, and her mind reels, one crazy revelation away from kickstarting a migraine.</p>
<p>"Huh?" Yuliya says, her head tilting to the side. "What do you mean? I'm real, I swear! Do you want me to prove it?"</p>
<p>She walks over timidly, before clasping Oksana's free hand between hers. It's clammy from sweat, but radiates warmth, human warmth, and Oksana yanks her hand away. She steps back, gaping at the soldier, who seems even more confused.</p>
<p>"You died," she gasps out. "Y-You died in Alchevsk. Your body… you… you were so close… They only found… How? How are you…?"</p>
<p>"I'm dead? Alchevsk?" Yuliya says, her eyebrows furrowing. "What do you mean?"</p>
<p>"You died four years ago Yuliya," Oksana stammers, pointing a finger at her chest, the rest of her emotions swept away by blinding shock. "Four years ago today. You and your brother died in a bombing on a military base. Don't you remember?"</p>
<p>Yuliya's face screws up further as she looks down at Oksana's finger, her eyes wide and long hands trembling. There are tears brimming in her eyes now.</p>
<p>"What do you mean…?" She asks, her voice shaking. "I don't understand what the fuck you're saying…"</p>
<p>She swallows quickly, looking at Oksana directly.</p>
<p>"Besides, who is Yuliya?"</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>